


Bittersweet Awakening

by glorifiedscapegoat



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M, No.6 Secret Santa 2019, Shion is a tired boy, and Nezumi just wants him to go to bed, post-reunion, who works way too hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22051462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorifiedscapegoat/pseuds/glorifiedscapegoat
Summary: In which Shion works too hard, and Nezumi just wants him to come to bed already.No.6 Secret Santa 2019 gift for KawaiiCinnamonroll
Relationships: Nezumi/Shion (No. 6)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 112





	Bittersweet Awakening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KawaiiCinnamonroll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KawaiiCinnamonroll/gifts).



> Happy Holidays and an amazing New Year to you, KawaiiCinnamonroll! Here's some post-reunion fluff for your Secret Santa gift. In the spirit of the New Year, having a nice moment between Nezumi and Shion, in which Shion is being a bit of a dumb-ass and Nezumi takes care of him, seemed appropriate.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! <3

Nezumi woke to the smell of coffee beans.

He stretched out his spine with a satisfied groan. In his sleep, he’d managed to curl himself into a tight ball, long limbs wrapped around his pillow and clutching it to his chest. He unearthed his face from the plush cushion―pulling himself from the aroma of drowsy lavender fabric softener―and looked over at his sleeping companion.

Shion’s side of the bed was empty.

Nezumi bolted upright.

Panic lanced through the synapses in his brain, tension jolting through his muscles until every inch of him ached. His eyes picked through the darkness of their shared bedroom, searching the dresser tucked in the corner, the slotted solar shades revealing the still-dark morning sky, and the bedroom door left ajar.

Yellow light spilled in through the gap in the doorframe, and Nezumi’s shoulders relaxed.

He dragged a hand over his face and then pushed his bangs aside. His hair was tangled, and Nezumi worked a few of them out with his fingers, wincing when he encountered a knot.

_Shion’s awake. He’s here_. Nezumi carded his fingers through his hair until there were no more gnarls. The primal terror spiking through his veins cooled until Nezumi felt weightless.

Four years had passed since the day Nezumi had almost lost Shion, four years since Nezumi had breezed back into Shion’s life, for good this time. Nezumi’s gut-reaction to waking without Shion at his side was anxiety and terror, but it was a bit better each time. _One step at a time. We’ll get there. Someday_.

Nezumi’s brow furrowed. It was strange that Shion climbing into bed hadn’t woken him. Nezumi had gone to bed around ten o’clock, leaving Shion to work on his proposal for the committee. Shion had been agonizing about it most of the day, and Nezumi had opted to give him some space to work.

Nezumi was a notoriously light sleeper. The slightest shifts on the mattress were usually enough to jar him awake. He was getting used to having Shion sleeping at his side again―no longer at his back, but in his arms, limbs tangled together in a heap.

_But I didn’t wake up this time_. Nezumi pressed his lips in a thin line. _Weird_.

And then his eyes flickered to the nightstand.

The digital clock announced 03:14 AM in neon green numbers.

Nezumi’s brows shot up.

He scrambled out of bed, tossing the comforter aside. The sheets caught around his ankles, and Nezumi nearly went sprawling to the ground. He caught himself with a sharp curse and kicked the sheets onto the floor.

The cool Autumn air sent prickles across the bare skin of his legs and arms. Nezumi wore a dark gray tee shirt and boxer shorts to bed, needing no other warmth than the thick blankets and Shion pinned against him.

He grabbed the thin black robe hanging off the back of the door―a welcome-back gift from Karan―and threw it on. The hem brushed his knees as he clutched it around his middle and bustled out into the kitchen.

Nezumi found Shion in the kitchen, rooting through the cupboards. The concern welling in the pit of his stomach like a fat serpent steadily began to uncoil.

Shion was dressed in the white button-down and slacks he’d been wearing when Nezumi went off to bed. His hair was wild, sticking up in all directions like a brilliant star. He had his back to Nezumi, his long fingers nudging aside various mugs in the cupboard. He moved quickly, a man on a mission.

Nezumi stepped into the kitchen. He pressed his weight on the squeaky floorboard―the same one he’d been irritated by on those mornings after a particularly terrible rehearsal―to announce his presence.

Shion’s shoulders shot to his ears. His hands stilled.

“You’re still awake?” Nezumi asked.

Shion looked over his shoulder. His glassy red eyes settled on Nezumi’s face, and after a few moments, comprehension flitted across his features. “Oh. Nezumi.” He lowered his arms from the cupboard, leaving the two doors open, and turned around. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“It’s three in the morning,” Nezumi said, leaving the question unanswered in the air between them. “Why are you still up?”

Shion lowered his gaze. His eyelashes dusted his cheekbones like a thick frost. He was beautiful, otherworldly in a way that made Nezumi weak-kneed every time he saw him. Even after all these years, Nezumi’s heart still skipped a beat at the thought of the young man standing before him. Even when said young man picked at Nezumi’s nerves.

“I have to finish my proposal,” Shion explained.

“Your meeting’s on Tuesday.”

"And?"

"It's Saturday morning."

“I’m behind.” Shion turned back to the cupboard and reached inside. “I need to finish it.”

Nezumi’s eyes shifted to the coffee pot. A gentle vapor of steam drifted from the boxy black container, the eight-cup pot filled halfway with the dark, steaming liquid. The aroma of light-roast coffee beans danced beneath Nezumi’s nose. It would have been a welcomed scent at a reasonable hour.

“And so you’re brewing coffee?”

“More coffee,” Shion corrected. “This is my second pot.”

“ _That’s_ healthy.” Nezumi strode across the kitchen and yanked one of the chairs back from the little table. Its wooden legs screeched across the tile. Nezumi flopped into the chair. “You look exhausted. You sure you want to keep working?”

“I have to, Nezumi.” Shion found the mug he wanted and set it on the counter. He closed the cupboards and hurried to the fridge.

“Why didn’t you reuse your cup?” Nezumi asked.

“What?”

“Your cup,” Nezumi repeated, as if he were speaking to a child. “If this is your second pot, then you must have had another cup. Why not just reuse it?”

“Because it was―” Shion paused, and Nezumi could see the gears working in his head. Shion looked at the sink, where his previous mug must have resided. “Huh.” He pressed his lips into a thin, calculating line. “I… I don’t know.”

Nezumi exhaled through his nose. “ _Shion_.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Shion interjected.

“Then enlighten me.”

“You’re going to say I should come to bed.”

“Give the man a prize, ladies and gentlemen.”

“I have to finish it, Nezumi.” Shion opened the fridge, took the creamer, and poured some into his mug. It was the pretty white one Nezumi had gotten for him a month ago; a watercolor image of a purple flower, not technically an aster but close enough, spread across the bottom of the mug, the green leaves twisting up the handle.

Despite the frustration prickling through him, Nezumi felt a small sliver of warmth at the sight of the mug. It had been a gift to Shion. A gift from _him_. Nezumi had never given anyone a gift before. It had seemed like such a small, pathetic thing at the time. And yet the moment he’d given it to Shion, those bright crimson eyes had lit up as if someone had set a fire in Shion’s core. Those lips had drawn back in a wide smile, and Shion had thrown his arms around Nezumi. “ _I love it! Thank you!_ ”

It was amazing, Nezumi thought―how something so small could ground him. _We’ve come so far, haven’t we?_ So much had changed in four years. Like tightly-coiled buds in a garden, Shion and Nezumi had finally, finally, _finally_ bloomed, their petals brushing against each other and their stems intertwining.

“We’re discussing the new proposal for the West District,” Shion went on, placing the cream back in the fridge.

After Nezumi left, West Block was evacuated, the citizens ushered into the remains of No.6 with Shion taking on the role of ambassador. The Manhunt had drastically lowered the number of West Block’s citizens, and Shion’s primary focus became finding suitable housing for them. The birth of the Committee―compiled of people from West Block, Kronos, and Lost Town―opened new possibilities for plans regarding the destroyed quarters.

“Some of the Committee members want to turn it into a junkyard,” Shion went on. “Most of the buildings are ruined, and even though we’ve removed all the bodies…”

_And given them proper burials_ , Nezumi thought. Shion had personally led the search to find the bodies buried beneath the rubble. Inukashi’s hounds had lent a hand, their reluctant owner offering their services as a favor to Shion. Shion had also found jobs for the displaced Disposers, tasking them with transferring the corpses safely and respectfully from the destruction and to a patch of land just outside the upheaved city.

Most of the Disposers had become the Clean-Up Committee, paid a livable wage by the city for their services. Nezumi had been surprised to find so many of the Disposers he recognized trudging through the remnants of No.6 as law-abiding citizens who prided themselves on their work rather than the thugs West Block had feared.

“It’s still dangerous to keep all that rubble just laying around,” Shion said, jolting Nezumi from his reminiscing. “What if kids play there? The wall is gone, and children are curious by nature. Not to mention how hazardous it is for the environment. If we removed it, put the scrap wood to good use and salvaged the metal, we could expand the living quarters and use that land to farm. That would create job opportunities, as well as save money on imported goods.

“We could grow most of our own crops, and once we’ve managed to create a sustainable system, we can work on exporting some of our goods and bringing some money back into the city! That way we can actually pay our workers and make sure people can survive.”

Nezumi rested his head on his hands and listened. He didn’t understand the politics of the Committee as well as Shion did, but he admired the passion in Shion’s voice. That had always drawn Nezumi to Shion, he supposed. He was so dedicated to everything he set his focus on.

Shion was trying his best to make good on his promise to Elyurias, and Nezumi as well, even though it was running him ragged.

“An admirable feat,” Nezumi allowed. “But I doubt the whole ship will sink if you take a few hours to rest.”

Something flickered across Shion’s face that might have been acceptance―and then the coffee pot chimed.

“Coffee’s done,” Shion announced.

Nezumi’s shoulders dropped in defeat.

Shion picked up the pot. The dark liquid inside sloshed up the sides. Shion’s fingers trembled on the handle as he navigated his way to his mug.

Nezumi changed his approach. “Have you made any progress with it? When I went to bed, you were stuck on your introductory paragraph.”

Shion paused.

“Talking it out is one thing,” Nezumi went on, “but it’s translating it into political jargon that’s stressing you out, right?”

Shion shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s not that. It’s just…” He sighed. “I know what I want to say. But it’s just like… the longer I stare at the page, the less sense my thoughts make.” His red eyes lost focus as Shion stared down at the coffee pot in his hands. “Everything that comes to mind just doesn’t sound right.”

Nezumi felt a pang of sympathy. “Then maybe you need to take some time away from it.”

Shion gnawed on his lower lip, considering Nezumi’s suggestion. Nezumi played with the sleeve of the robe, the warmth of the kitchen seeping in through the thin fabric. It was too soon to turn the heat in their small, two-bedroom apartment on.

Shion poured some coffee into the mug, and Nezumi’s mood soured.

“You want any?” Shion asked.

“No, thanks,” Nezumi said with a dry smile. “I actually enjoy sleeping.”

“Suit yourself.” Shion set the coffee pot back on the burner. He shuffled over to the table, set the mug down opposite Nezumi, and turned back to the counters. “Where’s the sugar?”

“Where it always is,” Nezumi said. As Shion meandered back toward the sink, Nezumi exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache forming. “Look, Shion. No one’s going to blame you if you take a break. You’ve been working on that thing all day. If you’re not thinking straight, it’s a universal sign that you need to get some sleep.”

“Found the sugar,” Shion piped up.

“You know,” Nezumi snapped, “for someone so intelligent, you can be amazingly dense.”

Shion sat down in the chair and muttered a retort.

“Didn’t catch that. Care to try again when you’re _not_ sleep-deprived?”

Shion rolled his eyes. He tipped the small canister of sugar upside down and dumped half of it into his coffee.

Nezumi raised an eyebrow. Shion liked sugar in his coffee. Nezumi had lived with him long enough to know that. But Shion didn’t usually take _that_ much sugar.

“You want any coffee with that?”

“Hush,” Shion said. “I need to finish this proposal, Nezumi. I need all the energy I can get.”

Shion held the mug in both hands and took a long gulp.

“Shion―,” Nezumi said.

Shion’s eyes widened. He slammed the cup onto the table and spat his mouthful of coffee back into it.

Nezumi reeled back. “What?”

Shion looked at the mug, then to the canister of sugar. Horror twisted into disbelief on his face. His scarlet eyes glistened and, to Nezumi’s utter confusion, filled with tears. Shion shoved his mug away from himself, folded his arms, and buried his face in the crook of his elbows.

“What’s wrong?” Nezumi snatched the canister of sugar up. He scanned the white label, the brand name scrawled in black and red letters, spelling out the words _coarse salt_ rather than _cane sugar_.

Nezumi’s lips quirked at the corners. “Oh.”

“It’s _salt_ ,” Shion whined.

Nezumi bit back laughter as he stood and set the offending condiment back on the counter. He took Shion’s mug and dumped it into the sink.

“And that,” he said, “would be a sign from the Powers That Be that I was right.”

Shion’s voice was muffled as he said, “It’s not funny.”

It was pretty funny, but Nezumi would avoid saying so until Shion was in a better state of mind. Once Shion had calmed down, and slept an acceptable number of hours, Nezumi would tease him mercilessly.

For now, Nezumi stood behind Shion and rubbed comforting circles on his back.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Time for bed. You’re probably not making as much progress as you’d like, anyway.”

Shion grumbled.

“You have all day Monday,” Nezumi added. “You’re not going to be much help to anyone if you’re passed out on the table.”

His thumbs continued to rub shapes into Shion’s shoulder blades until Shion turned his face to the side and managed a shaky, “OK.”

Nezumi celebrated silently as he helped Shion up from the table. He clicked the coffee pot off, making a mental note to clean the bean dispenser and empty the pot when he woke up again. He placed his hands on Shion’s shoulders and guided him through the kitchen and into their shared bedroom.

“Change into your pajamas,” Nezumi instructed.

Shion eased through the darkness, toward the dresser. Nezumi kept the door open, allowing the kitchen light to illuminate the room just enough for Shion to find his way. Shion knew the bedroom like the back of his hand―but Nezumi couldn’t count on Shion’s sleep-deprived mind to remember where he kept his boxers if he couldn’t even tell salt from sugar.

Shion dropped his button-down and slacks beside the hamper. _Close enough_ , Nezumi thought. Shion dug through the top drawer, found a black tee-shirt, and pulled it over his head. He fought with the hole before yanking it down.

Nezumi smirked. Hopefully, Shion hadn’t put it on backward. He supposed they’d find out in the morning.

“To bed with you, young man,” Nezumi said. “It’s well past your bedtime.”

Shion’s retort barely made it past his lips. Shion slumped to the bed and flopped down on his stomach.

Nezumi shook his head. He flicked the kitchen light off, plunging the room into darkness. The faint light filtering in through the slats in the window allowed Nezumi a quick look at Shion. He’d curled into the side of the bed where Nezumi had woken up, instinctively drawn to the warmth.

Nezumi crawled onto the bed and lay beside Shion. He wrestled the blankets out from under Shion and tucked them around him.

“Comfortable?” Nezumi asked.

Shion didn’t answer.

_Right to sleep, then_. Nezumi couldn’t help but laugh. He eased down beside Shion, tucking their legs together. His arms slipped around Shion’s thin frame and pulled him against his chest. The neon green alarm clock announced 03:38 AM. Shion and Nezumi kept the alarm off on the weekends. Nezumi would likely doze for a few hours. If he was lucky, Shion would sleep well into the late morning. Nezumi didn’t mind spending a lazy day in bed. If it kept Shion asleep for more than a few minutes, it was worth it.

Nezumi pressed his nose into Shion’s soft, silver hair. He smelled like the geranium shampoo Karan had given them as a move-in gift. Shion worked it through his hair every other day, and Nezumi had begun to associate the scent with the beautiful young man tucked in his arms.

Nezumi exhaled, content. The warmth from Shion’s body radiated through him. Sleep began to tug at the corners of his mind. Nezumi rested his chin on Shion’s shoulder. He listened to the thump of their hearts, the echo reminding him that fate had granted them a chance to start over. A new beginning.

Nezumi had wandered the world to find himself―and his journey had brought him right back to Shion.

He pressed a long, lingering kiss to Shion’s shoulder. The deep breathing from his sleeping companion soothed him, erased the tension in his shoulders and chased away the nightmares. In the warmth of their shared bedroom, Nezumi closed his eyes, breathed the same air as the boy he loved, and fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> For more awesome No.6 content, come hang out with me on tumblr: **https://glorifiedscapegoat.tumblr.com/** Hope you have an awesome New Year, everyone! Let's make 2020 a year to remember!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome! I love hearing what y'all think!


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